


Sculpted in Heaven, Dragged Down to Hell

by PearlButterfly



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: But he's still Hannibal, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter Has Feelings, Hannibal Lecter Has a Crush, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Softie, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, What happened after Muskrat Farm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-20 08:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20224690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearlButterfly/pseuds/PearlButterfly
Summary: What happened in that missing scene between Hannibal carrying Will out of Muskrat Farm and Will waking up in bed, dressed in different clothes.





	Sculpted in Heaven, Dragged Down to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I read somewhere that the script said Hannibal was to carry Will out of the farm over his shoulder, yet in the episode we got that beautiful bridal carry instead. This is a script-to-screen change that I definitely approve of.

White.

That was all he could see for miles in front of him, the icy cold of the snow caressing his bloodied skin as he made his escape from Muskrat Farm. His arms were heavy with Will, the younger man equally bloodied and bruised, who was unconscious. Hannibal had wrapped Will up in the coat he’d been wearing, shunning his own need for warmth in an attempt to protect Will and stir more life into him. The younger man’s skin was pale enough to rival the snow falling around them, and Hannibal knew it was partly his fault due to all the pain and strain he’d put on Will as of late.

He would have been quicker on foot alone but there was no way he could have left Will behind in that place to have his face removed, a punishment for his own sparring in Hannibal’s game of life. It wasn’t just the promise he’d made to Alana to save Will’s life; it would have felt wrong to Hannibal to leave behind the only one who could be his equal, the only one who could play his game of life with such skill and precision and almost win it. Hannibal had left him once before, he wouldn’t do it again. And he especially wouldn’t give the worthless likes of Mason and Cordell the satisfaction of violating and destroying his Will.

With the protection of Chiyoh taking out the pursuing guards from above, Hannibal walked on through the endless white, on and on, until he reached Wolf Trap, Will’s home.

It wasn’t difficult to let himself into Will’s house even without the aid of his keys, lost somewhere along the journey through Florence and back to the United States. Hannibal had learned to pick many a lock in his time active as the Chesapeake Ripper. He was grateful to see that Will’s pack of strays weren’t inside. Of course not, given that he knew (though didn’t fully understand) Will’s faithful love of those noisy, often-dirty animals, and that he would not allow them to be left alone without proper food and walks. Hannibal didn’t know a lot about animals but he’d heard that dogs could empathise with their owner’s emotions and if that turned out to be true then he didn’t want to risk being mauled by all six of them when they sensed Will’s distress.

The bed wasn’t made, which didn’t surprise Hannibal. In the past that calling for utter perfection that he used to honour in his time in Baltimore would have urged him to rectify that, but after his past riflings in Will’s things, Hannibal would have considered such a violation to be quite rude. Instead, he lay Will down on top of the unmade bed, looking around for the lights. When the house wasn’t so dark anymore Hannibal began to look through the drawers for something more comfortable for Will to wear. The other man didn’t seem to wear pyjamas to bed. After some searching Hannibal found one of Will’s beloved plaid shirts and some comfortable trousers, deciding that those would have to do.

It didn’t take him too long to get Will out of what he was wearing, the younger man only being covered by the coat Hannibal had stolen and his own underwear. Hannibal did not fully expose him, not wanting to do anything which Will would have been uncomfortable with should he have suddenly regained consciousness. Instead, he made quick work of getting Will’s arms and legs into the new, clean clothes, occasionally rubbing at his skin as he did in an effort to get more warm blood pumping through Will’s veins.

The younger man was clearly exhausted by all the pains of his life, and not just to most recent ones. Hannibal had full view of Will’s body now, free rein to take in every inch of it, and he had to admit that it was every bit as beautiful as anything displayed in the Uffizi Gallery. Perhaps even more beautiful because Hannibal could lay personal claim to it, could see his own artistry displayed on it. His fingertip danced along the scar he’d left on Will’s midriff, a cut deep enough to hurt, to remind Will of how he’d misstepped, but specifically placed so that he’d survive. Hannibal preferred his art where he could see it, not shut away in a box soon to be forgotten about. Further up was the bullet wound that was so far in the past that Will didn’t even notice it anymore. Hannibal wasn’t quite so proud of the smaller scar on Will’s forehead that he’d left before their capture, but he’d only done that because Will had pushed him into a corner, refusing yet again to cooperate. Hopefully the cut left by Cordell wouldn’t scar. Hannibal wasn’t all bad: he didn’t want Will plagued by too many bad memories every time he looked in the mirror.

He did pause before he wiped the blood from Will’s skin, though. There was something twisted yet beautiful about the red tainting that pale expanse, like drops of red wine on a pressed tablecloth. Hannibal wanted to lick it off and preserve it, not let any bit of Will go to waste. Leaning over the other man’s prone form, Hannibal pressed his mouth to Will’s jaw, coating his tongue with the coppery sweetness that was _just so Will_. He had to lock his jaw and pull away, lest he give into the urge to sink his teeth into that tempting flesh. Despite what the general public now seemed to believe about him, he wasn’t some kind of animal. He wasn’t going to treat Will like he was no better than any common rude fool. No, this was a gift that had to be savoured.

Moving back, Hannibal tucked the sheets around Will’s unconscious figure. The younger man looked much more comfortable now, body twisting into the familiarity of the bed. Will clearly hadn’t had such comfort and homeliness since he’d left to pursue Hannibal. Likely since before that too. Perhaps the day that Jack dragged him into the FBI, or the day that he began therapy with Hannibal, or the day that he killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs.

Hannibal grabbed Will’s armchair and pulled it closer to the bed so that he too could rest and sleep, yet not be parted from Will. One could accuse him of sentimentality but Hannibal was more inclined to ponder the future than the past. He could not read nostalgia into the lines of tiredness marring Will’s face with the shadow of where they went from here still hanging over them.

Hannibal had admittedly pined for Will, while they’d been apart. When he’d delivered his broken heart to the cathedral for Will to find, Hannibal had wanted to seize the other man and spirit him away while the memory of Abigail and the life they were meant to have together was still fresh. But Hannibal was not praised for his recklessness, so he couldn’t respond to Will’s calls, but just knowing that the younger man forgave him was enough to convince him that Will did accept the place that Hannibal had made for him in his own world. He just had to be patient and let the mongoose chase the snake until it had no choice but to surrender. And surrender he would, to anything and everything which Will saw fit, to bring them together again.

But now, Will held all the cards, and Hannibal, despite everything he knew, could not predict what the other man would choose. Hannibal knew that Will had limits beyond those of regular human understanding, and that he had his own hidden lust for the darkness which Hannibal brought. Will was stuck in the grey area between light and darkness. He was aware of what his morals should be, which would end with him calling Jack and reporting Hannibal’s location and choosing the light. However, he was a wildcard than even the famed Jack Crawford with all his powers of persuasion could not control, and Hannibal’s killing of Abigail had dashed the last of the light from Will’s life, so he may end up venturing further into the darkness than he could be redeemed from.

Hannibal closed his eyes, sharp ears picking up the faint whistle of the wind outside. When he opened them next, he’d have his answer.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Will woke up and sent him away :(  
Good thing Hanni had a backup plan!


End file.
